


d&d

by sourcheeks



Category: All Elite Wrestling, Professional Wrestling
Genre: Dungeons & Dragons References, Grooming, M/M, Sharing a Bed, creepy age gap but i promise it isn't romanticised
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourcheeks/pseuds/sourcheeks
Summary: Sammy would rather die than share a hotel room with Cutler.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

"You can't make me do this, this is so unfair!" Sammy stomped his foot, aware of how childish he sounded and not caring. He could endure a little embarrassment if it meant he didn't have to hang out with those Elite losers. 

"It's just one night. I'm not thrilled about it either." Jericho sighed, running a hand down his face. "All I'm asking you to do is not get into a fistfight with the guy."

"No promises," Sammy grumbled. He snatched his suitcase up and stormed off dramatically, hearing Santana and Ortiz snicker behind him. Dickheads. Why couldn't he room with them? 

"I want to establish that this is only happening because the hotel fucked up," Sammy announced loudly as he entered the hotel room, groaning. "Oh Jesus Christ."

"Hi Sammy!" Omega waved to him. He, Cutler, Statlander, and of all fucking people Darby Allin were crowded around the small table in the hotel room with papers and dice in front of them. Just Sammy's luck. "Didn't know you played DND."

"I don't," Sammy snarled, dropping his bag on the bed. Jesus. There was only one bed. "I'm not a loser."

"You lost to Darby," Statlander oh so helpfully reminded him. Darby flashed him a smug smirk. Sammy was gonna reinjure his stupid throat. 

"I mean, you could play if you wanted," Brandon said, extending an obvious olive branch that Sammy so did not want to take. "Like, ideally an adventuring party would have at least four people, and I have some premade character sheets-"

"Incredibly fucking hard pass." Sammy sat on the bed, putting his headphones in and texting Santana to complain about getting stuck with the nerd squad. 

Sammy was forced to actually listen to them play when his earbuds died. Jesus, how long did this nerd ass game last? Brandon was doing some super goofy accent that was sort of British but sort of Russian. Sammy had to bite back a laugh and he clearly wasn't alone, even Brandon occasionally breaking character with a self deprecating chuckle. 

"I'm gonna stab him." Kenny rolled one of the many dice in front of him. 

Darby groaned. "We can't take you anywhere." His voice was still rough and raspy and Sammy felt an unfamiliar twinge of guilt. 

"I got a nineteen! You have to let me!" Kenny cheered. 

Brandon wasn't bothering to hide his laughter at this point. "Jesus, fine. You take out your dagger and you stab this - this completely innocent tavern patron-"

"What's a tavern?" The question is out before Sammy can remind himself he doesn't care. 

"Like - it's like a bar where you can rent a room," Brandon explained. "And Kenny has just stabbed a random man inside of one, who was giving his character important information-"

"He was a spy! I'm a princess, I know how to tell." Kenny flipped his stupid blonde curls. 

"He was not." Brandon pretends to be upset, but he's losing a fight against his own smile. It would be cute if it was on someone who was in Sammy's league. 

Watching them play is almost fun. Sammy tries to look bored, though. He would never live it down if he showed genuine interest in this nerd stuff. 

It's getting late when they finally wrap up, Kris waving goodbye to Sammy enthusiastically while Kenny informed her in a tone Sammy definitely was not supposed to hear that he was a dickhead and she should avoid him. Whatever, he didn't care what that loser thought. 

"You're sleeping on the couch," Sammy told Brandon matter of factly. 

"What?" Brandon looked up from where he was packing away his weird folding screen. "No way. You take the couch, shrimp."

"I am not a shrimp!" Sammy felt his ears getting hot. "Whatever. I'm sleeping in the bed." He took off his jeans and got into the queen. After a few minutes, he heard the rustle of sheets and the creak of springs. 

Brandon was lying down beside him. 

That little asshole! Sammy couldn't stand him. He fumed quietly until he fell asleep, as far away from Brandon as the bed allowed. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the updated tags for triggers!

Sammy woke up with someone's arm around his waist and a warm presence at his back. He smiled and nuzzled back into the touch. Ortiz played up the tough guy act, but Sammy knew he was a big softie at heart. He fell back asleep, awoken by someone who was definitely not Ortiz calling his name. 

"Jesus, get off, freak!" Sammy yelped as he finally realized what was happening, scrambling away from Brandon. 

"I'm sorry!" Brandon wasn't looking at him, clearly embarrassed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to!"

"Well don't do it again!" Sammy huffed, grabbing a change of clothes and storming off to the shower. Jesus. He _told_ Brandon to sleep on the couch. 

Sammy spent longer than he needed to in the shower, staying in until the water ran cold. Brandon would just have to take a cold shower. Dick. 

Sammy goes to Santana and Ortiz’s room to hang out. Ortiz rubs his back while he bitches about Cutler, Santana agreeing whenever Sammy paused for affirmation. They knew how to handle Sammy in one of his moods.

"I don't know what his problem is! Like - god. He's such a loser!" Sammy made a face. 

"He is," Santana agreed. 

Sammy nodded self righteously. "I should go tell him off."

Santana and Ortiz shared an amused look over Sammy's head. "That's a good idea," Ortiz agreed. 

"It is!" Sammy got up, pulling on his jacket and checking his hair in the mirror. He stormed off back to the hotel room. 

Cutler and his stupid friends were playing their stupid game again. Sammy made as much noise as possible coming in. "Hey, losers."

"Oh, hi, buddy!" Brandon flashed him that genuine, dorky smile he hated so much. "You wanna play with us?"

Darby snickered. Sammy didn't blame him. The idea of him playing this loser game was pretty funny. "Uh, hard pass. I don't know if you're trying to get in my pants or what after this morning, but you're fucking delusional."

"Yeah, Brandon," Darby agreed. Sammy noted pridefully that his voice was still raspy. "You could totally do better."

"Hey!" Sammy scowled. "Shove it, Skellington."

Darby ignored him, shuffling through a stack of cards. The lack of reaction pissed Sammy off. "Can I open the door with Thaumaturgy?"

"You can't unlock stuff with Thaumaturgy!" 

They got into some lameo dork argument that Sammy tuned out, just packing his gear bag. He was at least sharing a car with the Inner Circle, so he got a brief respite from Cutler. 

Sammy was vlogging backstage, and he had wandered off from the Inner Circle. Hagar and Chris were arguing about some stupid business shit he didn’t care about, and Santana and Ortiz were ignoring his attempts to get attention. He was interrupted midsentence by that stupid Cutler jerk. 

“Sammy! Hey, can we talk?” 

Sammy looked up from his phone, expression sour, before plastering on a fake smile. “Brandon!”

“Oh, uh, I didn’t realize you were recording.” Brandon smiled sheepishly. “I’ll, uh, leave you to it-”

“No, come on, be in my video!” Sammy put an arm around Brandon’s shoulders, moving his phone so they were both in frame. “Say hi, Cutler!”

“Uh, hi!” Brandon waved a little. “I was hoping we could talk, you know, privately…?” 

“Come on now, no need for secrets!” Sammy hated the idea of talking privately, frankly. He didn’t want to hear whatever Brandon had to tell him. As long as the camera was rolling, he wouldn’t. 

“Nevermind, Sammy, I can just go-”

“You should go, yeah.” Jericho laid a hand on Brandon’s shoulder. Sammy took some satisfaction in the way Brandon scurried off like a scolded dog. “What’s his problem?”

“I have no idea, he is _so_ weird.” Sammy rolled his eyes. “We had to sleep in the same bed because of a stupid hotel mixup, can you believe that?”

Sammy felt vindicated by the flash of jealousy on Jericho’s face. Jericho still wanted him around. “I’ll make sure we get a room together next week,” Chris reassured him, putting an arm around Sammy’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about that assclown.” 

Sammy smiled, shutting off his camera now that he was finally getting the attention he wanted, giving Jericho a hug. “Great! I can’t wait.”


End file.
